


Homo Ferrus ex Machina

by Inkeye



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Brain Damage, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Frozen!Tony, IronWidow Bromance, M/M, Modern!Steve, Multi, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, World Building/Re-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkeye/pseuds/Inkeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU with Tony as the Man Out of Time and Steve Rogers as a more recent experiment. The world and people have developed differently, but these two are still brought together in the Avengers Initiative. Sorry for the title, this is what happens when I pretend I'm clever. See that slow burn tag? That means glacial. Steve isn't even in the story yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

_Tony Stark became self-aware at the tender age of five._

_Assembly lines, vast stretches of wondrous machinery, had just come into the public eye. He had listened, utterly fascinated, as a bewildered news host quizzed a Ford technician on the new invention. The man clearly had his questions set up for him._

_Tony didn't understand the confusion. Everything the technician said made sense. It sounded just like the wooden puzzles he was given for Christmas, only a lot bigger. And made of metal._

_In fact, Tony bet it was simple enough that he could do it too. And he would!_

_His mother and father weren't as happy as he thought they would be. Not because it didn't work, oh no. The radio that had given him the idea lay across the lounge room, into the kitchen, all reconstructed into a shining, if miniature, assembly line. He tried his very best to explain, that it would work if all three pulled the levers at the same time, and look, it makes wooden blocks for puzzles. None of that mattered._

_In the end, neither did his parents' scolding. He never remembered what exactly they were upset about, whether it was about the family radio in shambles ("It was nearly new, and cost a pretty penny-") or his weird fascination ("Any other boy would be out playing cowboys-"). All Tony remembered of that day was their refusal to look, and listen. And that the first, his very first creation never had the chance to work properly, because it needed three people to function._

_\---_

_A very important man, or so the world was led to believe, had been assassinated in Bosnia._

_Chaos reigned as countries tore each other apart. Tony's father left at the beginning and didn't return until the end, not long after his fourteenth birthday._

_The world celebrated its' great victoy, but Tony was angry. The war had happened so quickly to him, and the four years seem to pass too soon. He had wanted to join. Not as an enlisted man, not like his father, but as a Scientist. Tony wanted the glory promised by the news reels, he wanted to save the day with the inventions that grew in scope and design by the passing hour._

_Any guilt he had was pushed down, down deeply below memories of a miserable childhood, his sore and belittled ego, and an abiding, aching lonliness._

_\---_

_"And...five hundred. There's my half."_

_"Your half, little man, comes out of that glorious skull of yours. But if you're going to toss money my way, that's just fine by me."_

_Tony smiled at the other young man. It felt strange._

_"This will be our company, Obie. I'll meet you halfway with everything you put in."_

_\---_

_"And Stark Co. has yet again made headlines with their newest creation, but how will this weapon impact an already fragile global climate..."_

_\---_

_His father was dead. Obadiah had clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder and asked if he wanted company to the funeral. He refused. They both knew he wasn't going._

_\---_

_"Dad?"_

_Tony coughed and waved away the billowing smoke._

_"Yes, sorry, small accident. Nothing to worry about. Isn't your show on?"_

_His son frowned up at him._

_"It's after four in the morning."_

_It was, in fact, four twenty. Time had lost all relevance for Tony in the past decade, as days and people slipped in and out of his memory. His parents were gone, his wife was gone, any old friends outside the company long disappeared. Tony found he didn't care very much. His inventions, on the other hand..._

_This new one was a secret. He couldn't work on it in the lab properly, but if he succeeded..._

_Forget the upcoming war that was obvious to anyone with eyes. Forget the constant badgering from the fretting government agents that were growing to fear his company. This...this was what his life had been leading to. Once the prototype was done, he would induct Obie into the secret. His partner always wanted a guaranteed success, but Tony was happy to take the risks._

_"Dad?"_

_Tony sighed. It would have to hold three hours or so, when Howard was at school._

_\---_

_A stern man with a strong German accent walked into Tony's office one day with an offer._

_Tony had a suspicion on the man's identity. As curious as he was on possibilities, he couldn't very well be associated with a future rival. Besides, sociopaths had a tendency to undermine their more intellegiant allies. Narcisstic streaks and all that. Tony could relate._

_\---_

_"It's happened."_

_Obadiah was breathless with excitement, almost dancing on the sheets of paper Tony was trying to fix in better order. He frowned._

_"It's what-" He caught on. "They've done it? We're back in?"_

_"Yes!" Obadiah laughed. "America has joined World War II!"_

_\---_

_"Iron Man, the well known persona of American genius and arms dealer Tony Stark, has again intervened in war efforts across France and Germany. While many soldiers are thankful for his timely aid, French officials are reporting loss of crucial data they claim was stolen by Stark himself..."_

_\---_

_"You've got to be more careful, Tony" Obadiah, as usual, showed his worry by cuffing Tony across the head._

_"Yes, Obie, keep jostling me. My concussion thanks you."_

_"Serves you right, crazy bastard. You're not shoving off and leaving me with this monster to run." He yanked the bandage tighter._

_Howard was nowhere in sight. He hated the sight of blood._

_\---_

_It came to a head inside a smelting factory. Of course it did._

_And for the record, he was absolutely correct about that German man._

_There were bombs, because there was always bombs, and many men with guns. Not that they could touch him. Energy and circuits flowing together at his fingertips, these were more ants than men-_

_Except for one. Taking his eyes off the Red Skull was a bad idea. He would remember not to do that again. If his head ever stopped ringing, he would. Remember that. Yes._

_Three bombs left. Obadiah was relaying their coordinated over the radio. He could find them easily, even with this maniac on his tail._

_There was one. Grab it, disconnect the right parts, toss it in nearest fire-_

_Two left._

_Obadiah was shouting. Tony could barely hear it over the roars of machinery and angry men and his own throbbing head, but the way his voice strained meant he was shouting._

_Tony deciphered it in pieces. A detonation switch, an energy spike, something Obie's never seen before-_

_A detonation triggered by an unknown energy? That sounded right, and logical._

_It was quite logical, and utterly wrong._

_He defused the second bomb before he realized where he was wrong._

_Red Skull had stopped pursuing him. He was standing, fixed in place, gripping a-blue cube? The man's face was a rictus of fury and frustration. The thing he held was pulsing energy, sending literal shockwaves through the air._

_The sheer power rippling out-was impossible._

_The last bomb. Tony had to get the last one. Whatever this was, it could wait a minute, unlike a lethal explosion that would destroy the town this factory resided in._

_Tony wasn't used to being wrong. It wasn't fun._

_The bomb was gone, the Red Skull was still frozen in place, and Obie was still shouting._

_Actually, the man was screaming. Hysterically._

_"-LEVEL THE FUCKING CONTINENT TONY THAT THING IS THE BIGGEST FUCKING NUKE-"_

_The cube was a nuke? Maybe by Obie's radar it looked that way. The ripples were widening, moving sluggishly through-everything._

_The waves were affecting everything. Concrete crumbled, metal melted, and the men still inside-_

_Tony moved without forming a plan. A very bad idea in it of itself._

_He seized the misshapen mass that was once Red Skull, and flew. Higher, higher. It was hot in his arms. This was a horrible idea._

_He was a genius. He should be able to come up with better than this. What could he do?_

_Tony kept flying. Obie's voice was fading and scratching out. He wondered if Howard was in the same room, watching the two (three?) blips move out of range. The mass grew hotter still._

_He could feel it seeping into him. That should scare him. He's a dead man, with all this radiation, just because the genius couldn't think of a better plan. He had so many plans..._

_Blue. Was it the sky or the cube? Burning._

_Black._

_\---_

Tony Stark woke up.

His throat burned, his chest burned, everything was still too hot, he had to drop-

"Easy, Mr. Stark. You are not dying, and you're in a safe location."

Tony looked around himself. At the monitor still attached to him, beeping irratically. At a machine attached to the wall pouring out cold air. At the towering black man, whose eye appraised him in his bed.

He cleared his throat, and spoke hoarsely.

"What year is this?"


	2. Chapter 1

 

"Stark, would you _kindly_ stop harassing my people and get back in the damn bed."

Tony didn't fight his smirk. The man had essentially admitted to being a spymaster. He could probably tell when he was being laughed at.

"I was asking the nice man some questions. You do want to acclimate me as quickly as possible, don't you?"

"That security guard has a job to do."

"Don't be dodgy. I have a right to know what's going on in the world."

Nick Fury breathed in, very slowly. He held his breath for a count of five. This man was the poster child for ulcers.

"Sit. Down. Please."

Tony strolled away from the window, barely a hitch to his step. He could tell from his treatment what strides the world must have taken. It was marvelous how well he felt eight days after awakening. A wonder too, how they figured out how to treat his body.

He reached the bed and sat, looking to Fury expectantly.

"Alright, Stark. We can increase your information flow. Maybe have a few more people come in to-"

"No on both accounts." Tony interjected.

Fury stared at him.

"What."

Tony felt his lips twitch again. It was almost like he was bothering-

He stomped down on the swell of emotions. No good, don't think of that now.

Tony picked imaginary lint from his knee, and straightened his shirt. "The information flow. Very slow, very inconvenient. The people, unnecessary. Just give me access to this "Internet", and a couple of days."

"How do you know about the-" Fury ground a hand against his temple. "You are far too good at worming out information than I care for. And no, I will not give you the internet."

"You're afraid of me." Tony challenged.

"Yes. Very."

He hadn't been expecting that.

Fury gave him an almost-smile. "I, and the people I work for, are very scared of you, Stark. You are a genius from our _very_ violent past, known to have sociopathic tendencies. Who made a living out of creating the most deadly weapons imaginable, _and_ may or may have not orchestrated some of the more potent tragedies of World War II."

"Wait a minute-" Tony interjected, feeling slighted and more than a little angry, "I never once _caused_ any of those skirmishes I went into. I _saved_ people!"

"Yes. You did. America remembers that about you, because that's what has been taught all over the country. Kids learn the polished version, the brave hero that fought for their freedom...and died for it."

Tony gripped his legs. He hoped Fury didn't notice.

He hadn't asked about Howard yet.

Fury was still talking. "-sacrifice is only reason you're sitting here and not in our top holding facilities. We would like to know why." He loomed forward. Who knew one eye could be so intimidating? "Why did you fly the Tes-the cube out?"

"The Tess? The Tess what?" Tony asked automatically.

"No dodging, Tony."

That was the first time Fury called him by his first name. He was offering a chance for trust. He had to lie, and lie well. He opened his mouth.

"I don't know."

Where the hell had that come from?

Fury considered him. Tony could have hit himself.

"I'll get you a laptop."

What the hell was a laptop?

\---

"This is Natasha Romanov. She's going to be your guide-"

"My babysitter." Tony interrupted, and Fury's eyebrow twitched. He was never going to get tired of that. "She's awfully pretty in that get-up, but that lady is no tour guide."

The woman in question appraised Tony just as he eyed her. She wore a neat suit and glasses (that were almost certainly fake), and her hair was swept up in a tight bun.

"So...this lovely madam is here to keep an eye on me. She looks capable, Fury, but I don't really have anywhere to run to."

"Romanov isn't here for that. A number of foreign governments have been made aware of you. This is our precaution now that you're exiting the safehouse."

"And _she_ is hungry. Get in gear, Stark, I thought you wanted to stretch your legs."

Tony began to grin. "Well, if _that's_ what you wanted-"  
" _No_." Fury was standing next to him in an instant, gripping him arm. "No suit. Stark, look at me." Tony blinked up at him. Fury had changed very quickly from amusing exasperation to absolute authority. "We are watching you. At all times. For our safety, and for yours, no. Suit." He looked over his shoulder. "And that was a poor choice of words, Romanov."

She shrugged. "Just a phrase."

"Not when I'm from." Tony reminded her.

Natasha smiled, shrugging again. "I wanted to see." Fury glared at her. "We have to test it sometime."

"Not now." He said shortly. "Go before I do the smart thing and lock both of you in here. Keep in touch, Romanov."

She flipped a lazy salute and gestured to Tony.

_After you._

\---

"This would be a lot more fun if you acted the part."

"What? Oo, look at all the lights and pretty colours? We did have colour back in the forties, you know."

Natasha had been watching him closely, as he suspected. Which he didn't mind at all. Technically, he hadn't slept with a woman since-

Tony still didn't want to deal with those feelings. Any feelings, really. He buried his face in the mug Natasha had brought him.

"Do you even know what you're drinking?" She looked amused.

They were at a fancy-looking place with many ratty-looking people drinking out of similar mugs, all steadily typing away on laptops.

"Ah, some...thing with coffee? It's good, by the way. And I'm behaving. So I should get another cup."

"Didn't take a look at any trends while on the net?"

"The net-you mean internet. Fury doesn't give me much time with the thing. And he watches me like a hawk." That, for some reason, made Natasha smile.

"We have to get back soon. Anywhere else in Times Square you'd like to visit?"

"You mean anywhere else Fury is fine with me wondering into?" Tony snorted. "No, I think I'm peachy."

They had mostly wandered, few of the preordained locations interesting Tony. The bookshops held little interest with the discovery of the Internet, the boutiques disturbed him, and the sports merchadise store reminded him of Ho-

Those damn feelings again.

Natasha was still looking at him.

"You know-"

"I usually do." He snarked.

She rapped his hand with a fork, continuing. "You haven't spoken about the people you knew. I know you did your best to scare away the psychologist, but he did mention you refused to even use their names."

Tony really hated that psychologist. "Yes, Fury and his analysts would love to hear all the gritty details."

Natasha moved slightly to the left. She tilted her head and removed the earbud, setting it on the table. "They can't hear you. Or read your lips. Fury did tell me to discuss it with you, but not to control you or hurt you. We want to help, so I'm here to listen."

Tony flexed his hands, and then his shoulders. He twiddled his mug. Looked anywhere but at her.

"Not much to tell, really. Only a couple people have bothered getting close to me."

She waited patiently.

"And now they're gone." His voice was steady.

He rather liked that Natasha pretended she didn't see those couple of tears.

\---

_Of all places, they had met at a salon. Tony never believed in any sort of Fate, but he had to admit this was strong evidence. Any other night, he would have been couped away in the lab with what few assisstants he hadn't bullied into quitting. She would have been at home, typing away at her articles._

_She was clever and quick and content with her work, but everyone in her life told her she must be unhappy because at twenty five, she didn't have a man._

_It wasn't so different from what people told Tony, a few years her junior._

_They had similar dispositions, Obie would say scarily so. Tony found comfort in sharing his frustrations at his parents, her at her elder brother, the head of the family. The unaware families approved of the budding relationship. Not a year after they met, Meredith McCall became Meredith Stark._

_Tony had looked into her eyes and promised to love her for all their natural lives. He remembered feeling surprised, because he meant it._

_He never went to his fathers' funeral. Tony had decided Meredith's would be his last._

\---

They walked slowly back to the safehouse.

Or rather, in his dread of returning, Tony dragged his feet as much as possible and Natasha humoured him. She was rapidly becoming his favourite person in this new world. Not that there was much competition.

"So..." Natasha nudged him. "You haven't brought it up since we left. What's it like, being Iron Man?"

"Wearing the suit, or being a superhero?" She snorted at him. It sounded oddly pleasant, coming from her.

"A "superhero"? Really?"

Tony drew himself up. "I'll have you know I was around when that term was coined. I am expressly capable of understanding where it is applicable, thank you."

"Yeah. Sure. I meant the suit."

"I was definitely a superhero." Tony mumbled, sighing. "Anyway. The Suit!" He grinned. A much better topic. HIs greatest success. "I was inspired for the suit's engineering by a situation from my college days..."

\---

"Glad to see you intact, Agent Romanov." Fury had been waiting for them. In Tony's room.

How rude.

"Yes, she is as lovely as ever, and I have made the acquisition of "Mocha". A successful venture, now please get out."

Fury looked at him, and extended a hand. Tony took a cue from Natasha and shrugged at him. What an odd gesture. He then pulled out the stolen cellphone.

"I hope this doesn't mean you're curtailing any other trips. If you expected-"

"I expected you to do exactly what you did. That trip to the bathroom should have given you enough time to figure out all you could. I'm sending this back to the guy you took it from."

Tony floundered. "You-you let me take it apart."

"Correct. And since you didn't change anything, I don't feel bad about wiping it clean and returning it."

"How many tests do you plan on giving me?" He demanded.

"As many as I damn well please, Stark. While we're on the topic, Agent Romanov was correct. We need to see what you can still do."

" _Still_ do?" Tony tried to sound imperious, but probably was closer to delighted.

"Yeah, Stark. Tomorrow you show off your suit."

　

 


	3. Chapter 2

 

_Out of all the reactions to his suit, Obadiah's was Tony's favourite. For several minutes, he had simply circled Tony, a huge, shit-eating grin plastered on his face._

_"God...damn, Tony!"  
_

_"What, is that all? Some critique would be nice."_

_"Critique would require a standard to hold an estimation to." Obadiah shot back, still orbiting. "This is far beyond..._ how _did you do this, Tony? I know there have been some great breakthroughs recently, but this is-_ lightyears _beyond anything we've done. This is practically pulp fiction."_

_"Do you remember Professer Enior? The lectures on Applied Mechanics?"_

_"I remember you dragging me to a few horrible sessions that had nothing to do with my business classes." "_

_"The simplified version is-"_

_"I don't want the simplified version. I want you to sit down and explain this to me slowly." He stabbed a finger at Tony. "Nothing left out. I want to understand how the hell you managed this."_

_Tony grinned. Yes, Obie was his favourite._

\---

The room was enormous, gleaming walls stretching high overhead to form a dome. Behind Tony was a thick glass separating him from a smaller room filled with machines and milling scientists. Fury and Natasha were the only two on his side, with him at the room's center with a large black case.

"Are they done yet?"

Fury raised an eyebrow at his tone. "They, the best and brightest L.A.N.C.E has to offer, are doing their jobs as quickly and efficiently as they can."

"They're wet, and they're taking too long."

Fury resisted all urges to grind his teeth. It would only encourage the man. "Don't you have something to do?" He gestured to the case. "Something to check over, prepare? Anything?"

Tony sighed. "I like to do it all at once." He muttered. The clasps, supposedly shut for sixty some odd years, opened easily enough. He knew Fury had lied about nobody stepping foot in his private vault. He supposed Fury knew he knew. There wasn't much point in making trouble over that. Yet.

When Tony had been found, his rescuers had to pry him from the outer shell. He saw what remained. This prototype, however incomplete, would have to be sufficient for a test run. He removed his jacket, and noticed Natasha shifting in the corner of his eye.

She was leaning against the glass, looking very calm. It didn't fool Tony.

Natasha looked him over. From this distance, and the short sleeve still covering some of his arms, it was hard to see anything. She knew what to look for, though, and if she squinted, Natasha could make out odd lines on Tony's arms.

Her earpiece crackled. She listened patiently.

"They're ready for you, Tony." He gave her a wide smile.

She found herself smiling too, and quickly reformed her face into a neutral mask. Tony's smiles, when genuine, were disturbingly infectious. Natasha refocused on Tony, now bent over and flipping straps and machinery this way and that to his liking. He stood, and his face became utterly centered and intent.

It happened quickly. The odd lines on his arms, barely noticeable, became apparent. Unnatural shapes bulged in his back and shoulders, and the pieces in the case snapped up and onto Tony. In a millisecond, he was covered from head to toe. Metal whirred and clicked and slotted together.

Right as they finished settling, Natasha could swear she saw a flash of blue.

Iron Man stood in front of them.

"Try not to look too impressed. This is, after all, only a preliminary model." Tony stretched, feeling very self-satisfied as his creation clicked and hummed around him.

"We've seen pictures, Stark." Fury commented, unmoved. "It looked a lot more polished."

" _That_ was the finished product." Tony snapped. " _This_ was barely put together-"

Fury waved a hand. "Tell us how it feels. Is everything running how it's supposed to?"

"Yes."

"And...?"

Tony had done his best to appear non-threatening to Fury. Maybe not successfully, as the man knew what he was capable of, but he made the attempt anyway. Now, with his face concealed, he bared his teeth.

"And nothing. It's working just fine, as much as a prototype like this can. You've seen it in pieces, you can see it together, and you know that the suit is as much inside me as on me. That's all you get."

He saw Natasha wince. Was it just him, or was she displaying more emotion that usual?

"We are trying to help you." Fury sounded calm. "And you made the "inside" tech obvious years ago-"

"Help yourselves, you mean." He should probably stop. "Logistical and Administrative National Counter-Intelligence Echelon. Information is your bread and butter, and it was my specialty, using this. There was a reason we kept this from the war market."

Fury laughed at him.

"Don't pretend that you were secretive out of any principles, Stark. You stole as much information as you could find, and you made millions from that."

Tony found himself bristling. He actually felt insulted by this man. Definitely deliberate. He needed to stop before he blurted out something important. "I made millions from my _very_ lucrative business, by selling weapons to the demanding nation _I lived in_ , that happened to be in a war at the time!" A war he had been happy to see start. Fury didn't need to know that. "Whatever secrets I may or may not have acquired, while I was _helping_ _people_ , went into this suit."

Fury paused. He couldn't see Tony's face, but the man was a horrible liar. That hadn't sounded like a lie. "Everything you learned?"

Tony huffed. "Yes. It was reason for my first trip over seas. Konrad Zuse was a German inventor before the war. Once it started, the government hid him away somewhere to continue his work. He kept his head down, and no one knew where he was or what he was doing. I wanted-needed to expand my knowledge. I did, with him none the wiser. And my suit improved." He felt calmer. Fury had listened patiently enough. Perhaps if Tony explained more of his motivations, the man would at least-

"I still haven't heard a good excuse for not sharing your technology."

"What-" Tony dragged his encased fingers down the opposite arm. " _What_ is there to explain with that? Do you honestly think that a hundred, a thousand armoured spies running around Europe would have helped? It would have escalated the war! There was no good reason for revealing the designs-"

"What about cases like the Red Skull?"

Tony snorted in derision. "A man with no clue what he was doing, trying to copy what he didn't understand, managed to cook his face off and give himself a couple of weaponized limbs. He wasn't a threat, Fury, it was that blue cube that-"

"Not a threat, Stark?" Fury's face tightened. "Do you know how many deaths he was responsible for? How much of the war he was involved in?"

"I-he was a murderer! Like hundreds of other mass murderers! If he didn't have me to copy, he would have just made bombs! Like the ones he was already damn good at making that I had to keep getting rid of!"

Natasha had to keep herself from nodding. That...made a lot of sense. Although, by Tony's increasingly tense voice, it didn't seem he entirely agreed with himself.

"And besides-" Tony seemed to sag. "Like I said, he didn't succeed. He stuck bits of machinery on himself, and thought he was a god when the world saw him as a monster." There was a catch in his voice. "Not many copy attempts, after his failure." He gestured to his head. "They couldn't make the connection."

Tony turned away, and Fury considered him. He had intended to put his next move into action later. With Stark in an emotionally compromised state, there was a possible gain in changing the schedule.

"There have been...many more attempts in the past sixty years." Fury said carefully, all emotion wiped from his face. "You're were going to find this out sooner or later-Some, one case in particular, were nearly successful." He noted Stark's absolute stillness. "There is someone I'd like you to meet when you're done here. Just walk around a bit, get used to the suit again. I'll be back." Still taking advantage of the shocked silence, he quickly exited.

Natasha watched Tony as he began to pace. In a few moments, the man had gone switched from enthusiasm to outrage, to a strange melancholy and then shock, and now this. He was mumbling to himself.

"Tony. Tony!"

"...um. Yes."

She hesitated. She almost wanted to tell him to hold still, that during the last ten minutes, the machines that were supposedly monitoring his vitals were almost all focusing on unraveling his secrets. That the purpose of this exercise was to have Iron Man at the center of all L.A.N.C.E.'s sonars and surveillance.

But there was another reason for her guilt.

"The...man that Fury is going to introduce you to."

"Yes?" Tony was focusing on her now, his excitement palpable. The idea of people mimicking him and failing had infuriated him. It seemed that the prospect of someone actually managing the attempt was enthralling. Natasha squashed the feelings of sympathy that tried to choke her.

"The experiment-it didn't-" Natasha didn't know if this was something Fury had wanted Tony to know. She was almost sure it wasn't. It hadn't been a direct order, and if Tony met him with such high hopes-

But order or no, Fury clearly wanted Tony to face this without warning-

Tony reached up, and his face plate slid off and into his hand. His face was sober, a far cry from the excitement that had been pouring off of him. "Natasha. I have a feeling that whatever happened with this guy, it wasn't great. Or what Fury wants me to assume. I don't care. I'm in my suit for the first time since I woke up, and there might be a scientist around here that's close to my league. I'll take it." He smiled unpleasantly, and voiced what he had been thinking. "For now."

That was very concerning. Natasha debated the merits of verbally sparing with Tony to distract him from possible escape plans. She also had to distract herself from growing sympathies for him. This shouldn't have been so difficult.

Tony seated himself with minimal clanking. "So. What's his name, this hopefully verbose scientist?"

Natasha considered the question. Again, no orders against it. No harm, really, in telling him.

"Bruce Banner."


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much plotting. Many schemes. As always, critique welcomed.

To any outsider, Tony was captivated in the task of stacking styrofoam cups into a pyramid.

Natasha pushed herself away from the wall and approached him. Two hours and more coffee than wise was enough to send the man into a calm stupor, his eyes blank as he upended another dribbling cup.

She sat across from him and opened her mouth.

Tony spoke first.

"He's been here for at least five years."

"Seven."

"When was the last time someone here spoke to him outside of Fury and that hack?"

Natasha drummed her fingers on the tabletop. "You were the first."

Tony tipped the pyramid over. "You brought him in."

"I did."

"Why?" He began again.

"Fury saw his potential threat. We couldn't let him wander."

"So it was Fury's idea."

"I wouldn't have complied if I didn't agree."

"Really?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Banner rebuilt most of my suit from scratch. He integrated well with the machinery. I don't see a genius like that bungling the last step."

"Banner had predicted the dangers of being linked to radio and sonar waves. The world's technology was much more vast than the forties. He designed a filter to allow only intended and focused beams to connect with him. But the morning before the final procedure, he had a falling out with his partner, Emil Blonsky. No one knows the cause, but he sabotaged the wave parameters. We still don't know the extent of the damage, because nothing and no one has been able to get inside his head." Natasha leaned toward Tony. "Not yet."

Tony snorted. "You would like me to dissect the man in fifteen minute windows with no tools and limited knowledge. I would need a lab, first of all, and why-" He stopped.

Natasha had seen this look once before, albeit briefly. Tony had just swiped a cellphone and was making for the bathroom.

"What are you thinking?"

"Hm?" Tony swirled his fingers through puddles of coffee. "Just a thought. Who is the owner of Stark Co. right now?"

Natasha blinked. That was...unexpected. Tony had been quite adamant in speaking of his suit, and nothing else. Most especially not people.

"I know it's not Obie, we can skip that." His fingers stuttered in the air before picking up more quickly. "He would have come crashing in here the first day. I know he's gone. And Howard was never going to follow in my footsteps. Who is it?"

Natasha thought. If this was going in the direction it seemed to be, Fury would want this conversation to run its course.

"Her name is Pepper Potts. She was Stane's prodigy pupil for a decade before his health failed. The transition was smooth, and she's been in complete control since, with minimal interference from rival companies and the government."

"And from L.A.N.C.E. as well?"

Natasha nodded, reluctantly."She has several reputed spies and hackers at her disposal."

"And how would she react if I were to nudge in?"

"It depends on what you intended. She won't relinquish control, but Ms. Potts was close with her mentor and she probably knows more about you than most alive. It's likely she would be easily negotiated into making you a department head and a voice at any important meetings." Tony looked pleased. Natasha kept her straight face and hoped this was the right course. "But that won't help you with Fury. You're not leaving this base without his permission, Tony."

"That's the easy part." He was looking smug again.

"How so?

"I know what he wants. Give him a call, tell him I'd like a word."

\---

"You want to meet with Ms. Potts and re-enter the arms race. Why the hell would I authorize this?"

"Again with the weapons. Haven't you seen the good things to come from the company? What was that, Natasha, that seed-thing-"

"Stark Seeding Aircraft. Used largely in success to repopulate barren farmlands across North America, Europe, and Africa."

" _Besides_ the point. Those inventions are few and far between, as I am _sure_ " Fury gave her a gimlet-eye stare, "Agent Romanov told you. This came pretty sudden, Stark. And stop  _touch_ _ing_ things!"

Tony placed the data-pad back on Fury's desk. He couldn't do much with it under Fury's surveillance anyway. "I don't think _you_ think this is sudden. But that doesn't matter. I want to be out of here tomorrow, with only a tracker and no other L.A.N.C.E.  technology on my person, and minimal future interference."

"And I should-"

"And you should authorize all of it because once I'm acclimated I will willingly keep all of your technology at much, much higher level than the rest of the world. Stark Co. will be your only real competitor, and if you can get around _my_ defenses, who knows?"

Fury rolled his chair back and steepled his fingers. "Still too much leeway."

"Well, if you want to assign me an agent, I want a smart one. Send Romanov with me."

"Getting attached, Stark?"

Tony sent Natasha a mischievous grin. "She is awfully pretty, but I was thinking that a somewhat more intelligent agent would be preferable." He caught the look Natasha gave him. "A _very_ intelligent agent, I mean."

"Hm." Fury thought for a minute. "And she would be constantly present to monitor you?"

"A few obvious exceptions. And I want something in return. I want Banner to come."

"What."

"You want me to fix him so you can use him. Fine. I can't do that here. You can pile whatever you want on him, and Natasha will be nearby if anything goes wrong."

"And you will keep us updated on this. Nothing left out."

Tony could sense his victory. "Yes. I'll make a daily report, if you want."

"...Fine. This may take longer than a day, though. Give me three, and you'll get an interview with Ms. Potts. I'll even see to it that the press is kept off your back until you're ready for them."

Tony mulled it over. Fury was pushing him with the extra days. If he pushed back, the offer might be rescinded. "Done." Tony shook the outstretched hand.

Fury waved them out.

Tony walked down the hall with Natasha still at his side. He had to stop himself from laughing gleefully.

Oh, it was marvelous to have plans again.

\---

Natasha tried very hard to make peace with the worry bubbling in her gut. She had a feeling she wasn't going to be free of the feeling, or this man, for a very long time.

\---

The lab technician took a deep breath and opened the door. As always, the guards stood just beyond as he deposited the food, stacked neatly on a biodegradable tray, on the floor.

The cell's occupant turned. Brown eyes blinked at him and the food. At the sight of guards, they flashed and turned an electric blue. The face became edged and a faint hiss came from clenched teeth.

"Ah, th-there's some tests tomorrow. N-not anything bad!" He hastily amended. "The man you met earlier, if you remember, he wants to help you, so you're going-to go with him. We're going to p-prep you for departure."

"I'm...leaving?" The voice was hoarse and whispered.

"Y-yes. In three days." The lab technician backed away. "See you tomorrow, then." The door swung shut.

The man turned away again.

His fingers, no matter how sharp, wouldn't scratch these walls. As always, he dragged them along anyway, hoping to make a mark.

 


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's that, new chapter? You're going to bang around in my head until I type you out? Hang the fact it's two fucking thirty in the morning and I haven't slept in twenty hours? Yeah, that sounds on par for this story.

 

He was back.

The boy had been bringing his daily meals for. A long time. No room for a third count. Same boy that stood to the side as people- _mechanics and bio-engineers and psychoanalysts_ -poked and prodded and pulled and stabbed and invaded him. Took notes with an unhappy face and almond shaped eyes - _Korean-American, some Indonesian_ -that looked different than other cold ones that faced him. Always quiet, in the wide room anyway. Here, his mouth moved, slower than the gabbling ones. He did not understand.

 _Intern_.

What? He tried to catch the thought. It slipped away. Didn't matter. One hundred and thirteen seconds inside, the boy usually left after forty. Twice that much if he looked strangely- _guiltily-_ at him.

One part to count. No, two parts, one for all and one for just this. One part to keep himself sitting, that was very important. To keep sitting. One part to...count...no...what...

One hundred and forty seconds. An entire additional hundred seconds. The boy was still moving his mouth.

The other one. Two hundred thirty million, three hundred seventy thousand, four hundred eight-six.

And keep sitting.

And keep blocking.

What?

The other people were coming in.

Keep sitting.

\---

His mentor came striding in with five guards in tow. Amadeus knew all of them, and disliked them equally. The other scientists, he could understand. Sort of. They were wrapped up in the genius of it all, and were so _curious_ about it-no, him. He was curious, too. These men watched everything with few words and blank faces.

"Amadeus, come here."

"Um, yes, Doctor Simmons?"

She gestured in a curt motion. "You will monitor all signs at close range during the entire expedition. _Only_ when we are in the confines of the tower will we release the charge into Stark's custody, and no longer be responsible for any havoc occurring in the public eye." His hands started up in an aborted movement. "Is that a problem, Assistant Cho?"

"Wh-er, why-"

"The difference between you and any other individual on the team is slight but significant. A lowering of the higher functions that we didn't have the time" Her lip curled, "To identify displays some recognition. If there's any individual least likely to be assaulted, it's you."

"Oh." Amadeus blinked. He had delivered those meals three times a day for almost two years...maybe something had clicked.

The room was slowly filling up. Four more guards slid in, and several of Doctor Simmons's peers were circling and arguing.

"A few more hours and everything should be in place to move..."

"If this tech doesn't hold, there could be damage-"

"Never mind that, L.A.N.C.E. will contain it regardless, why couldn't Fury put this off for a month or two? I was so close-"

Simmons laughed, and the room stilled. "We had our chance, gentlemen. Seven years of chances. If Stark can make anything of this" She nodded to the corner "Then he has my blessing. And none of you, if you're wise, will try to delay the move. You'll have more than Fury and Stark to contend with."

She swept out of the room. Had he seen-was she feeling sympathy? Or maybe just pity? Either way, her declaration ended any sour discussions. Everyone was silent as they finished their tasks.

A guard tapped him on the shoulder. "Departure at oh-eight hundred. Sub-level eleven."

Amadeus was shoved unceremoniously out the door. The final procedures were done without an audience, heck if he knew why.

He hoped that all the rumours were true. He wanted Tony Stark to succeed in fixing Doctor Banner.

\---

Two hundred thirty million, three hundred seventy thousand, five hundred twenty-one.

Two hundred thirty million, three hundred seventy thousand, five hundred twenty-two.

Keep sitting.

\---

L.A.N.C.E. Headquarters was buzzing. Natasha could see a couple dozen harried scientists, all in someway involved Banner's transportation. Some of the guards had to be as well. Another group for regular operations...

Still a few too many. She changed direction.

Checking the cafeteria first, Natasha relaxed. Tony was still in his room, and this surplus of guards was not his fault. Next stop.

The flow of humanity clogging the hallways lessened as she entered the private rooms sector. Not that any came into contact with her anyway.

Natasha reached a familiar doorway and slipped inside, closing it behind her.

"Why are we being sent out at the same time? And where are you going that's more than an hour away?"

Clint raised en eyebrow at her from his position on the floor. "To the first-I have no idea. Second-I received orders not an hour ago for prep, not a location."

"You have no idea where you're going. And yet you're exercising."

Something he did extensively whenever he was about to be trapped on-board with Mackenzie for a significant amount of time.

"Yeah, well," He grinned, "Fury left the flight roster out. Again. Same as last week. And the teams don't appear very different. So, most likely scenario-"

"Continuation of a mission that was a mid-level, long-term assignment now needing supplies, if Mackenzie's piloting. With a decent bodyguard."

"Decent, she says." Clint levered himself up on one palm, body vertical. "If I recall, _your_ babysitting duty is going to last much longer than mine."

"That's if Tony doesn't blow us all up." Natasha watched appreciatively as he lowered his legs into a perfect split. "Besides, I'm starting to think you were right."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You do have it worse with Mackenzie."

Clint twisted his legs around and slid to the floor. "So." He began crunches. "Are we talking to Fury about this, or waiting until we're both back?"

Natasha was silent.

"Nat." Clint sat up and caught her eye. "It was in your contract from the beginning. It was built into mine when you were initiated. We are both leaving, and it isn't on the same mission. This is a direct violation, and we need to confront him on it. Soon."

"He-" Natasha sighed, deeply. "Fury doesn't trust me."

"Bullshit."

"Not that same way he trusts you, Clint. I knew it before, but now, watching Tony, it's more obvious than ever."

"He's trusting you to take two of L.A.N.C.E.'s most valuable assets to an on-grid location with little surveillance, Nat, if that isn't trust-"

"They aren't assets. Tony isn't, at least." She looked at the wall. "That's the problem. I know Tony isn't going to fall in line, not for anyone, and I don't want to try to convince him. He isn't L.A.N.C.E.'s, and if I know him at all, he''ll do his best to influence Banner the same way. Fury knows what I see, and he sees me not acting on it."

Clint stood, and took her hands. He waited for her to look at him.

"You've done everything Fury has every asked you to do. And you think about your actions before you make them. Not only have you shown him your loyalty, you've done it for the right reasons. Because you believed that his directions were the best options. And if a time comes when that changes, we'll tackle it together."

She smiled. "Dork."

"I am an extraordinarily skilled marksmen, spy, and assassin. You do not get to call me dork."

\---

Tony was torn. On one hand, it was the marked third day, in which he would meet with Pepper Potts and decide his future, as well as the future of his evolved industry and the damaged Doctor Banner.

On the other, it was five thirty. In the morning. And he had one cup of coffee.

One.

The personnel had told him upon receiving that one cup that there would be no other cups to follow, as there was an entire barracks to pour caffeine into, and a hoard of scientists on top of that.

Tony sat in the corner of the cafeteria, nursing his one cup, and made himself feel incrementally better by planning his coup of Stark Co. His own company, really, so could it be called a coup? Perhaps-what was this?

He had yet to see Natasha interact with anyone outside himself, Fury, and that one waiter. Here she was, walking in with a man who may or may not be older than her, it was hard to tell-definitely on the same level, as people stepped aside for him as they did for her. Very interesting. They were deep in discussion, and were seating themselves near the exit and against a wall.

Tony wasn't capable of sneaking without his suit. Sneaking well, that is.

\---

"...whenever I get back?"

Natasha shook her head, keeping an eye on Tony. He would be in ear range soon. "I'm not convinced confronting him on a fragile matter, like our contracts, is a good idea right now. Not with everything happening."

Clint made a frustrated noise. "It's not healthy for you. It's worked for years, we shouldn't-" He shook his head. "Good morning, Mr. Stark."

"He's awfully formal." Tony commented.

"He doesn't know you yet. The respect will wear off quickly, trust me." She watched him drop next to her. "Pull up a chair, why don't you?"

"So, friend of Natasha's!" She suddenly noticed his smile. "Do you have a name? A tag? Or more importantly, any witty tales about the lovely dame here?"

Clint was starting to smile. "Clint Barton. And as a regular partner to the Black Widow, I may have a few."

" _Black Widow_? _That's_ your tag?" And now Tony was grinning. "That's marvelous, that is. How long have you had it? How did you get it?"

"I am not-"

"Eight years ago. Her first L.A.N.C.E. mission, accompanied by yours truly. A true showing of cunning, strength, and fortitude, all while several director's lives hung in the balance."

Clint was in storytelling mode, and Tony was hanging on to every word. She hadn't thought about how little normal contact, normal for him anyway, he had had in the last few weeks. This was good, seeing Tony opting to talk rather than bate.

She smiled, and started to settle down for a half hour or so, when a thought struck her.

Clint knew her. Tony would be around her for who knew how long.

They were talking. Hell, they were chatting as if they _liked_ each other.

Distractions. Where were Distractions?

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is very smart...with science. Specifically science. Not things that don't have anything to do...with science. Herein lies his free lesson reminding him of this.  
> The previous publication of this chapter felt incomplete and lumpy. Also too...indulgent? Anyone who read the original probably knows what I mean.

 

Fury had intercepted the group as they left the cafeteria, and lost no time in throwing his last minute, barely disguised demands at Tony. This lasted the entire trip to the docking bay. Tony ignored most of it, stealing glances behind him at the trailing spies. Natasha was receiving a speech of her own. Clint remained at her side, ignoring the dirty looks the aide shot him for standing so close to what was probably a mission briefing. He had already blocked several physical interceptions, smiling and ostensibly unaware of the irate man. Here was a quick-witted man that knew he was more clever than most people around him. Tony enjoyed his new acquaintance's small success.

Barely a month in this new world, and Tony now had two people he was appreciated the company of. How odd. He could attribute it to the two being spies, and accustomed in adapting to their company to foster camaraderie, but the way they spoke and moved together, and then spoke to Tony...he could hope. There were certainly hints of Natasha's compassion. Sometimes he would catch a look on her face or a pause in her words...she slipped up a couple of times, he was sure. Natasha's face was blank when she spoke with Fury, but it became animated when directed with him. The same way there was a small smirk directed at Clint's antics now. Maybe there was something there he could work with.

"...the essentials of the contract are already in place, with my signature. If anyone crosses the line on my additions, you lose L.A.N.C.E.'s support. Permanently. In legal, defense, and media-related matters, you will be alone. Ms. Potts is aware of this. I suggest you coordinate during the discussion to ensure you stay on the right side of that line. With everything else, I've given my suggestions, but the rest-are you listening to me, Stark? Or am I only gracing the walls with my dulcet tones?"

"You've covered all of your bases, you would very much appreciate my respecting of these bases, and you will be quite displeased should I choose not to."

"...good enough." He stopped beside the elevator. "Agent Barton, I believe your departure station is in the other direction."

"Yes, Director!" Clint saluted, narrowly missing the aide. "Just seeing my fellow agent as far as I could, Director!"

Natasha snorted. Clint had a specific viewpoint on how best to enforce levity. With Fury's almost-smile present, she couldn't completely disagree.

She yanked Clint into a one-armed hug.

"Bet you I'll get back first."

"That's a stupid and unfair bet."

"Yes, it is-" The elevator slid open.

"Let's go, people."

They filed in, and Natasha followed, reluctant to release her hold. Clint eased out of her grip with a smile.

"Try not to piss off too many people, Stark!"

Fury muttered a few things that Natasha thought were (probably) deserved.

"Keep it short, Clint."

"Will do. I'll say hi to Phil for you."

Natasha had come to realize that Tony had more tact than people thought. After the elevator doors shut, he started his techno-babble, annoying everyone else and distracting her from her missing partner.

\---

Another update in technology that Tony absolutely adored was the near-silence of aircraft. He had heard some L.A.N.C.E. people complain, but to him, these were marvelously quiet. Not especially noticeable with aerodynes, but apparent in rotorcraft. He eyed the one landing close by. If he had his way, Tony would have it dismantled this evening.

He very much intended to have his way today.

"Where's Banner?" He called to Fury, pulling him from a conversation with Natasha. Tony could almost say he would miss seeing the man every day.

Miss his twitching eye, anyway. Not even being the most constant presence in his life recently would be enough to endear the man to Tony.

"He's being transported on the ground. With as many road blocks and men we could manage without giving the media a field day. The basements in Pinnacle Towers have been prepped to receive him, and my people will all be evacuated by the time your meeting is done."

Fury and Tony shook hands, and the director of L.A.N.C.E. exchanged a look with his agent. He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the building.

Natasha was staring after him. Tony felt odd, watching her slightly pained face.

"Do you think he has a technique?"

She blinked at him. "What?"

"For his cloak. Do you think he has a technique for making it flare like that?"

"You couldn't pull it off, Tony."

"That is a lie. A rather mean lie. It would look better on me."

The personal gestured for them to board, Natasha was smiling, and Tony felt his stomach ease.

Time to collect his company.

\---

Natasha ignored the snickering. It was almost...adorable, the obvious excitement Tony exuded over being airborne. The man was almost bouncing in his seat.

If he realized how he looked, said man would be mortified. Natasha was discrete in the glares she leveled at the chuckling men who might tip him off. They quieted and averted their eyes, looking unsettled.

Good.

\---

They landed on the rooftop of Pinnacle Towers without incident. Tony was visibly disappointed.

The platform was manned by the security guards of Stark Co. Natasha recognized a few from L.A.N.C.E. files, professionals all. Each met her eyes and made calm assessments. She nodded in approval. Her threat estimations could be narrowed down to the immediate vicinity around Tony, outside threats would not make the inside easily.

Few windows ran down the side of the building. The doors sliding open were reinforced, and would require blasting jelly at minimum to open.

The guard that had detached himself from the group was leading them down dark, smooth hallways. Tony absently noted that Natasha was entirely within her "Black Widow" persona. A blank face, constant, roving eyes, and a stride that was best described as predatory.

Tony quite liked knowing her tag.

The guard stepped ahead to open a wooden door.

Ms. Potts rose from the desk beyond.

"Mr. Stark." Her pleasant voice matched the well-presented woman, standing calm under his scrutiny. Her smile was welcoming, and she held a hand out to the two waiting chairs. "Let me be the first to welcome you and your friend to Pinnacle Towers."

"Thank you, Ms. Potts." He returned her smile, and wondered how much surveillance was successfully maintained over L.A.N.C.E. headquarters. He couldn't pinpoint what brought that suspicion to his mind, and that bothered him.

Tea was brought in as Ms. Potts distributed several sheet between Tony, herself, and a typist that settled himself on the side.

"Chester has a complete confidentiality agreement in his contract." Ms. Potts assured Tony at his dubious look. "Shall we begin?"

Tony blinked. This was already moving more quickly than he anticipated. Weren't business people supposed to drag out the proceedings?

It hardly mattered...but it would be more fun if it went slower.

\---

Ms. Potts had a clever mind. Tony wasn't discouraged. She was smart, but he was a genius.

\---

He stared at the papers, and thought of his adversary's last argument. He racked his brains for a response.

Steadfast in his determination to ignore Natasha's smirking.

Ms. Potts gave a deep sigh of satisfaction at his continued silence, and laid her papers across the desk.

"Mr. Stark."

His look _wasn't_ sullen.

She propped her elbows on the desk, bringing her fingertips together and leaning forward.

"This has been quite a long debacle, and quite a revealing one at that. I believe that my offers are reasonable, even generous. And that isn't due to your rebuttals, regardless of how...detailed, and colourful, they were."

Her twinkling eyes and barely tilted mouth convinced him that yes, this woman was laughing at him.

"Ms. Potts, I-"

"Please." She held up a hand. "We've been over most every detail, many non-consequential. Allow me to summarize the core of what I am going to give you, and why."

Tony sputtered at the word "give". He couldn't help himself.

Natasha grinned at the show.

"You will be the Director of Developmental Technologies, to coordinate with the heads of other, relating departments. This will be through myself and another appointed mediator, as I realize you don't know how to play nicely. You will have the right to attend any and all meetings and company functions, but not any compulsion. Major company decisions will not be made without your consultation, and minor ones that have to do with your field with also be done with your input. There will be a certain amount of material expected to come from your department, but when and how matters are done is your business. The basement levels are your area of operation, and Dr. Banner will not leave those levels under any circumstances. He is your responsibility,  and I _will_ leave you high and dry if there are casualties on your watch. All of Stark Co. resources are at your disposal, whether existing technology, information, or funds, as long as the aforementioned materials are being provided at a somewhat steady rate. I will be somewhat lenient on this flow for as long as your work on Dr. Banner persists. "

Natasha marveled at how oblivious Tony could about his own body. There was no way the man was aware of the look on his face.

It was ridiculous how much entertainment the man was providing her today. And it wasn't even life-threatening.

"I am doing this, Mr. Stark, for three reasons."

The typist was moving, unobtrusive, in the corner of Natasha's eye. He lay a new bundle of papers by Tony, and retreated back to his chair.

"First, and rather obviously, is your intellect. I have been told, quite explicitly, how far your genius extends. If I can secure it on my side, I will."

Tony nodded impatiently. That was nothing he hadn't heard before.

"The second point is, on a more personal note, related to your behavior. You think I'm an idiot."

"Ah-"

Again, she waved him off. "I don't take offense to it. I do believe you think everyone is an idiot, compared to you. I find your conduct refreshing."

"I...don't understand." It galled him to say. This entire meeting galled him. Was she almost done? He was beginning to think it was a far better idea to start from scratch. He surely could establish himself, there couldn't be too many-

She wasn't done.

"You've talked to me as if I wouldn't be able to keep up with you, but you seem to think of everyone the same way. You haven't tried to flatter or bribe me like most of my associates. Nor have you flirted with me and talked down to me because I'm a woman. As I said, this was an unusual conversation. I enjoyed it."

Tony began to seriously consider the risks of starting anew.

"Third. I am a selfish woman, Mr. Stark."

What?

"I'm sure you're aware of Obadiah Stane's passing."

The look on Ms. Potts face was as calm as ever, but her eyes looked older. Tony cleared his throat.

"I...made the assumption. I don't...I don't know the details."

"It was almost six years ago. People from rival companies and governments came running to see him on his death bed. He smiled and played his part while he died. Obadiah's last month was one long attack. I did what I could to support him. Since then, I've fought to keep this company out of their hands. My mentor had given me almost every tool I needed. He shared his experience, his secrets, and his memories. The final piece I was missing, what he spoke of the most with me, was you. His first partner and best friend. Did you know Obadiah never stopped looking for you?"

Tony shook his head, mute.

"He didn't accept the story handed out. He didn't believe you had been atomized, regardless of the severity of the explosion. Whatever data existed about that day, he bought or stole. The information and calculations was eventually used to locate you. All the while, he continued your legacy. I don't think he respected or cared for anyone like he did you." Ms. Potts rose and rounded her desk.

"The man that was practically a father to me held no one else in higher esteem. I want the opportunity, Mr. Stark, to work at your side. I wouldn't dare try to replace him for you, or to replace him _with_ you. Give me the chance to earn your respect, and share Obadiah's legacy."

She offered Tony her hand.

Being a businesswoman, she probably realized she couldn't have possibly made a stronger argument to win Tony to her side.  The evident truth in her voice made Ms. Potts all the more convincing. This was dangerous potential opponent.

Natasha could see the emotions screaming from behind Tony's stiff face. He was shaking slightly when he shook his new partner's hand.

Natasha wondered, uneasily, how much emotional strain Tony could cope with.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. From outta space. Well, from the Star Wars fandom, anywho. Excuse the rustiness as I get back into the swing of the fic. Will tidy up later. Oh, how I missed you, long-winded and bloated storyline.   
> Come for the promise of Stony far, far in the future. Stay for the IronWidow broship.

 

"It's _my_ job on the line, you know. And I've _tried_ to meet him halfway. I'm going to be fired for this! Tell him _that_!"

Natasha nodded sympathetically.

"And tell him, tell him even if he does come out today with a slew of plans, I'm not going to go easy on him. I've-Ms. Potts has been waiting weeks! He's going to have to work hard to get back into _her_ good graces." She murmured in agreement.

Finally out of breath, the liaison stormed out. Natasha waited for a minute before rising. She crossed the room to the monitors, typing to bring up a specific room. The lone camera on Banner's floor showed an unmoving figure, sitting where it always sat. No change there.

Picking up a waiting tray, she moved to the only other door and tapped a code into the console. The door hissed open.

One table was moderately less cluttered than the others. Natasha swept papers and the bits of deconstructed laptops aside, seating herself on the cleared space and placing the tray within Tony's reach.

He didn't acknowledged her entrance, and didn't need to. He started that trend first time she entered. That first day, she had been talking with the head of security when angry voices distracted her. Inside the monitoring room, the only entrance to the lab, several scientists milled around and complained. Tony had locked himself in, and if they wanted to contribute or snoop, they needed the combination. And Tony wasn't giving it to just anyone.

Or at least that's what he had said. Natasha came upon a repeating sequence when she scanned the monitors. A string of numbers in a database that, logically, wasn't going to be found by anyone but her. A quick decoding later had her inside the room.

Their routine for the past thirteen days was well-established, and Natasha felt no need to upset it (the raging delegate was easy enough to placate). Aside from one man, no one had seen fit to interrupt either. Fury had made some noise over Tony's reports (his daily reports were identical to the last) but was being, in his own way, patient. For all of the liaison's whining, Potts had remained silent, probably expecting this to be an acclimation period. Banner fulfilled bodily functions and remained largely immobile.

Natasha was enjoying the calm. Here, in Tony's study, the only sounds were almost-inaudible mutters and the faint rasp of a pencil.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, her meditating and him scribbling. At the end of it Natasha stood, spine cracking, checking once more to see the food and coffee to be easily accessible. She left without a word spoken from either of them.

\---

"Of course he hasn't. What about you?"

"Aside from making sure Tony's fed and watered? The usual. Touching bases with a few L.A.N.C.E agents on the inside. Snagged some tidbits from gossiping employees. I'd be bored if I didn't have a pretty good idea of what's coming."

"Think it's going to be that bad?"

"I think it's going to be extravagant. And loud. You might hear a few explosions."

"I hope so. There isn't much difference between our jobs right now. At least yours is sentient."

"Already bored of those physicists still snooping around?"

"If only. They've quit trying to sneak in. Bad game is better than no game."

"Poor baby."

"Yeah, yeah. The quiet is going to end for both of us sooner or later, and we'll miss it when it's gone."

"Stay safe."

"You too, Nat."

\---

The young scientist stopped short as the door opened, as he was brought face-to-face with the red-headed agent. She stared at him, eyes picking over his form.

"Are you cleared for this level?"

"A-ah, yes. I am. Amadeus Cho. I-I'm here for the two-week update on Doctor Banner." He fumbled with his passcard, raising it for her inspection.

Natasha didn't think he was a threat, but the boy shouldn't have come down here for the report. Someone had sent him to catch them unawares. Fury? If it _was_ Fury-a warning? A silent show of support, that he was nearby to jump in if she needed it? It could be his version of teasing her. He'd done stranger things in the past to amuse himself. If it was anyone else-Cho's supervisor, or Potts manipulating events, then it would have to be intelligence gathering.

There wasn't anything to do about it. It wasn't as thought he could glean anything from this room, anyway. She handed him the data, and sent him off.

\---

Two days after that incident, Tony spun around in his chair and thanked her for the coffee. He also passed her a piece of paper with his cramped hand-writing covering nearly very square inch.

"Not half-bad when it's cold, either." He inhaled the steam, nodding appreciatively. "I've drank quite a bit of cold coffee, and it used to be _terrible_. Nothing like it is now. It's the spectroscopy. Much easier to grade the beans that way."

"You've been educating yourself on the new and improved process of making coffee." Natasha scanned the paper. She could identify most components.

"An idea was giving me some trouble. I had a little break so it could breathe."

"I suppose you were successful."

"Moderately. It's a long-term operation."

"And your obligation to Stark Co. and Fury?"

He affected a look of innocence. "What do you think I need all those materials for?"

Natasha raised her pointer finger. "For, I'd say...an invention or two that are improvements on already-existing patents. You want to start out small without blowing some of the better things you've come up with. You can build up to those and introduce them later for better effect." She continued ticking off on her fingers. "For improvements on your suit, and something to begin with on Banner...and something, I'd think, to fortify this room against outside ears."

"Huh." Tony said.

She smiled at him. "I'll bring this to that liaison you've been ignoring. I don't think there'll be any problem bringing everything here."

\---

The routine changed.

Natasha now went into Tony's lab for a bit of training. It kept her on her toes, having to keep the two of them out of the trajectory of airborne shrapnel, and judging when something was about to explode.

Or catch fire.

Or shoot electricity.

And instead of his indecipherable mumbles, Tony spoke _to_ her. It was still his usual techno-babble, barely within her understanding, but the man was making an effort. Tony was reaching out, and that was important.

\---

Tony was used to a lab silent of any other voice but his own, and having Natasha in it didn't change that. But as he began the physical work, moving back and forth, her presence was more tangible. And he began to raise his voice, deliberately, so she could hear his thought process. He told himself that she was smart enough to copy the procedures and tests he was running, even if she didn't know their specific applications. So it didn't really matter if she knew those too. Natasha wanted his trust, she had said that much. And even if she hadn't explicitly promised, she had implied that any information Fury got on his projects wouldn't be through her. If Tony let Natasha get close to him, he would be getting close to her.

(And, silently, he marveled at having a friend who was neither scientist nor businessman.)

With another week gone, he exited the lab to hand off plans to an odd red-faced man that glared at him when Tony waved him away. The first contribution to his company in years. How strange that is was a benign project. Tony wondered how Ms. Potts would take it, but he didn't wonder for long. A far more important project was waiting.

\---

"Why do you need antiseptic and bandages?"

Tony scoffed. "Natasha, you've given me far too much faith in your powers of perception for me to take that question seriously."

She sighed. "I was hoping I was wrong. And I'm not getting you some cream. We have much better than that, which you should know."

"I've educated myself on every significant advance in every field of science over the past six decades. I've learned about sixty years worth of politics, which, by the way, I despise. And I've hacked into the outer defense of every spy network in existence. There's only so much I can do in a month, you know."

" _Only_ the outer defenses?" Natasha covered her concern with a jibe, but Tony caught it. She was getting soft.

"Yes, _only_ the outer defenses. I haven't been sticking my fingers into places they'd be cut off. Just getting my bearings, Natasha, I don't want to kick up a fuss."

"Yet."

She knew him too well. "Yet." It made Tony wonder why she was letting him get away with this much. And how much she was really telling Fury.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Tony flexed his shoulders muscles, contemplating the corresponding flare running up his back and down his arm.

"It hurts?" Natasha asked, watching his face.

"The local anesthetic is doing its job, but the nerves and connecting components are rusty, so speak...might be inflamed."

"And you're sure you don't want to bring in a doctor of any kind." He laughed at that one.

"Anything they can do, I can do better."

"Not if you're passed out on the floor."

"Then I leave my fate in your tender mercy." He made an adjustment, and hissed at the sound of metal scraping.

"Ahhggkk _that's_ going to be tender for a while. Alright, experiment one complete. Success? Yes, a moderate success. Newly available alloys are compatible with existing structure. Which means creating the lighter design is a go." A piece detached itself with a wet _pop_. Tony winced. "Although that should be done after I adjust for space. There should not be anything running down my back. Like there is right now." He twisted, trying to look, and winced again.

"Hold still." Natasha had gleaned enough to know what needed air and what could be wrapped under the gauze. Tony continued talking to the camera as she worked. She could see areas where circuitry pushed the skin to transparency, and places where it had ruptured, creating veiny blotches of black, red, and yellow.

"-pick it up after the room's fortifications are complete. In the duration, I'm going to have to pick apart one of the back-up suppression fields on Floor B-6 to-"

"What."

"...what?"

Natasha tugged the bandages tighter than strictly necessary. "What are you doing to the suppression fields that are keeping the good doctor from rampaging through this tower, and the city?"

"I'm not doing anything to _them_. I'm going to look at one of the back-ups."

"Which are in place for a reason. Why do you need to look at one, anyway? You should be able to get a hold of their blueprints easily enough. I daresay Ms. Potts, or even Fury, would hand them off if you asked."

"Oh, I know how they work. I just need the pieces to one." He waited.

"You're going to incorporate a suppression field into your suit for Doctor Banner. And then-are you're going to take him out of isolation?"

"You know, you would have done fantastically as a business mogul. Very quick with the details."

"The flattery is appreciated. I'm going to have to tell Fury about this." She tucked in the last strip snugly, and patted his shoulder.

"Of course." Tony stretched side-to-side. "I expected that. Let him know it's going to be a while yet, say six weeks or so. Any preparations he wants to make are fine, as long as they're out of sight and out of my way." There, that was generous enough, right? Hopefully to the point of suspicion.

Natasha had circled back around him, and she was eyeing him. Perfect.

\---

If Potts had been notified about Tony dismantling of one field generator, during or after the fact, she made no comment of it. Tony had it in manageable pieces within an hour, and had them back in his labs before another was gone.

As with any new machinery, the man positively danced with glee. Natasha noticed his ramblings take a departure from genius, into what she thought was a bit...fanboy-ish. At least one of them was having fun. Fury had quit being so vague with his demands, and ordered specific reports on Tony's work pertaining to Banner.

\---

"No, he wasn't angry. Excited, if I was reading him right."

"But people have tried pulling Banner out of isolation before. It's never gone well."

"This is Tony. And we all know that he has something more planned, I've just got to figure out what."

"You've got a place to start?"

"More than just to start. I think he's laying it out for me."

"What?"

"I think it's a test. And if I pass, he might let me in on more."

"And you'll pass it by...what? Not telling Fury?"

"..."

"Nat, that's a terrible idea."

"I thought you said Fury trusted me."

"Yes, but...gah...okay, I see where you're going with this. You keep some info away from Fury, Stark trusts you more, and you learn more than anyone else trying to get in his head. If you're sure about this, I'll back you later when it comes around."

"...thanks, Clint."

"It _is_ going to come back around, Nat. Are you sure you want to do this? I know you're unsteady right now. I know you like Tony. You can save the tightrope act for another mission. Let the info go now, maybe slip up a bit with Tony, but stay in Fury's good graces. It's an option."

"...do I really seem unsteady?"

"Not to anyone else, I'd bet. You've always been good at hiding it. "

" _We've_ always been good at hiding it."

"...yeah. I  guess I'm feeling it too. It's been a month. Think Phil would notice if I slipped away for a week?"

"You think he didn't hear that? Or any of this conversation?"

"Very true. How long?"

"I can go for another month. Maybe two. Tony...is a pretty good distraction. And a relatively nonfatal one."

"Alright. I'll start pushing again in a few weeks."

"Stay safe."

"As safe as we ever are."

\---

Another change to their routine came near midnight, when Tony would exit his labs. Before, she saw him pass out for an hour or two at a time, and then pick up wherever he left off. Now, the man actually used his bed on the next floor up.

With Tony ensconced in his room, Natasha went searching.

Four hours of screen-surfing later, she had her answer. He hadn't made it simple, even with the trail of breadcrumbs. Natasha kicked herself for thinking Tony would have actually remained in his rooms. She watched him in the elevator, and switched to the camera on B-6. Tony had been given several orders along the lines of staying within Natasha's scope with work concerning Banner. And it was her fault for assuming that he would. Foolish. Very, very foolish.

Still...there wasn't much going on. Tony entered the room, sitting with some distance between the two, and wrote on a tablet. There was no lip movement, no eye contact. And thirty minutes or so later, he left.

The recordings night after night showed the same. She would have to wait for more.

\---

A week passed.

And another.

And Tony did not find himself on the receiving end of any tirade courtesy of Fury.

Mission success.

\---

Natasha knew that Tony knew. And Tony knew she knew he knew.

Still, they kept their facade up, right up the point Tony strolled out of the lab and asked for her company to B-6.

"Let's have an experiment, shall we?" Tony asked, teeth gleaming.

\---

The man was quiet. In the silence. Filled up space- _more space than seen_ -but quiet, not like her, not like she was. He shuffled in on socked feet, but she- _red hair, red hands_ -came striding, heels ringing on the floor and around the room.

Two hundred thirty-three million, eight hundred and forty thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two.

She was from-why was she here? Why did he-no, no.

Two hundred thirty-three million, eight hundred and forty thousand, nine hundred and twenty-five.

She sat next to the quiet- _in the silence, not in himself_ -man and stared at him. Waiting.

Keep sitting.

She wouldn't do anything if he kept sitting. She had-what? She had. There was nothing else she could do than what she already-what?

Two hundred thirty-three million, eight hundred and forty thousand, nine hundred and twenty-seven.

The quiet man spoke.

_Scientist. Genius._

Two hundred thirty-three million, eight hundred and forty thousand, nine hundred and thirty-three.

His voice- _analytical_ -was soft. It wasn't angry. He didn't have to focus.

Two hundred thirty-three million, eight hundred and forty thousand, nine hundred and thirty-four.

\---

"He responded to you."

Natasha was staring at the doctor, and her face could have been carved from stone.

Tony prodded again. "Banner remembers you."

"He isn't remembering anything good, I can promise you."

"Are you alright? Do you want to leave?"

She looked down. Tony had touched her elbow, hesitantly.

"I didn't do this to make you feel uncomfortable."

Natasha laughed. "I didn't think you did." He looked relieved. "Is this helping?"

"Yes." Tony tapped the side of his head. "Besides regular observation, I'm picking up tiny reactions he might not even be aware of."

"You're going to have to explain that one to me. How did you manage to get a connection inside this room? And why isn't Banner isn't catching it?"

"Of course!"

He was sharing the technology without complaint. Natasha felt torn between triumph and guilt. And across the room, Doctor Banner was still staring at her with frigid blue eyes.


End file.
